Isang Malarong Gabi

Bago matulog, maririnig ang lagaslas ng tubig na marubdob na dumadaloy mula sa gripo ng nawasa. Ilang sandali pa ay madarama na ang marahang pagsalok at pagdampi ng tubig sa katawan ng isang taong tila napakaingat sa pagbasa.

Ngunit bago niya simulan ang seremonyas ay pag-iigtingin muna niyang maigi ang init sa naturang silid paliguan.

Ang kanyang kamay ay patuloy na maglalaro — isang walang sawang paglalaro. Hindi titigil hangga't hindi pa niya nadarama ang tagumpay na pilit niyang inaasam sa mga sandaling yaon.

Patuloy ang paglikot ng kanyang kamay — animo'y napaka-bibo sa paulit ulit nitong gestura.

Taas. Baba. Taas. Baba. Nakakangawit ang kanyang ginagawa kaya naman di mo siya masisisi kung bakit papalit-palit ang kamay na kanyang ginagamit sa paglalaro.

Kaliwa. Kanan. Kaliwa. Kanan. Mayroon din namang pagkakataong pinagsasabay niya itong gamitin. Ngunit ang kanyang paborito ay sa tuwing pinaiikot niya ang pareho niyang mga kamay at sabay na ikekending ang kanyang bewang.

Sa wakas. Nanawa na rin siya. Isang malapot na likido na nasa kanyang mga palad ang tumapos sa kanyang panggigigil.

Napabuntong hininga sa labis na ginhawa. Nakapagpalobo na rin siya gamit ang bula.

Matapos ang makailang ulit na pagsasabon, aabutin ang tuwalyang nakatupi malapit sa pintuan ng banyo. Pupunasang bahagya ang katawan at hahayaang sipsipin ng animo'y tigang na tuwalya ang tubig na nananatiling nakaturay sa kanyang balat.

Isusuot nang muli ang pang-itaas at ang kortong kanyang pantulog. Mauupo sa isang banda ng kama.

Aabutin niya ang isang basket na pulos bagay na sadya niyang gagamitin. Kukunin ang "facial toner" bahagyang iaaplay sa kanyang mukha at leeg. Makailang ulit na makapag-aplay ay kukunin naman ang "moisturizer"at agad itong ikakalat sa kanyang mukha.

Kukunin din niya ang botelya ng lotion at maglalagay din sa kanyang palad bago ito ikalat sa kanyang buong katawan. Itatabi ang lahat ng ginamit at siya'y mahihiga na.

Pupuwesto na animo'y nagbabadyang magpahinga, ngunit di pahihintulutan ng kanyang mga mata.

Wala siyang ibang magagawa kundi ang sundin ang undyuk ng kanyang isipan.

Kukunin ang kumot at ibabalot ang sarili. Mag-uunat at sisimulan na ang larong makapagpapatulog sa kanya ng tuluyan.

Knowing some more personal “I’s”

        There came a time when once I decided to drop down my quill and quit from writing, a time when I see no great reason to believe that inside me exists a writer whose thoughts count worthy of my dear readers’ precious time. But now I tell you this: that time has finally ended.

        My Id and ego have won the battle staged by the ally of my heart and mind; it was between the passion to yearn out for new knowledge and the malice fired up by the things my sinful ears have heard of. And that victory made me more composed as before. Thus today, I start this new chapter.

        I am Nonilo Velasco Libertad, Jr., twenty-two years old, Certified Public Accountant by profession. I was editor-in-chief of TIP Voice, the Official School and Student Publication of the Technological Institute of the Philippines Manila(2010-2011). I continue to keep my dream of becoming a writer with remarkable books that will inspire people.  

        I am highly skeptic – an attitude accountants like me are required to possess. I don’t encourage professional idolatry but studying the ways and becomings of an accountant made me understand integrity and professionalism more than how I used to exhibit such during my editorial days.

        I am mean, the usual antagonist of a story. I love to talk. I was team captain of our Debate Society in College (I was trained to be sensible speaker I believe). I chat and argue with intellectual people but usually silent with bunch of odd. I hope you accept and respect all ideas and stands I am yet to publish in here. At any rate, I’m open to hear your reactions and comments. Grazzie and happy reading to us all!

The "When's" and "Why's" of my writings

For varied reasons, people consider literature as a reflection of one’s soul; a mirror where we all look at to see the often ignored things about reality of life.

For varied reasons also, people take literature as an extreme expression of emotions which includes but is never limited to love, hatred, fear, sympathy, melancholy, happiness, frustration, as well as lust and fantasy that we are often afraid to disclose.

For it is through literature that we come to wholly face ourselves without any reservation. In its chambers, we celebrate victory and accept our defeat; we become the masters and slaves of every writer’s insane mind; we get to believe in fairies and dinosaurs and fear worms and trees like a mad child begging for his milk bottle at the darkest of nights.

Literature has no bounds at all. It trespasses all lairs of serenity as well as those of chaos and incongruency. And once it succeeds in conquering a world, it will all depend on how the curse or the blessing it brings you is being handled– a true blessing when enriched but a curse when ignored.

I write this to give you my reasons as well as the times I healthily play with my literary characters. At the end of the day, I only aim at one thing: to persuade you that “writing makes one simple life interesting.”

When I’m lonely, I write

If there’s something in this world that could kill me instantly (people who keep grudges on me are happy to know this I suppose), that would probably be loneliness – a helpless feeling I believe.

It is loneliness that makes me feel I worth nothing in this world, that I should not exist because people who value me never really co-exist with me after all.

At times like this, I write about my hopes, my fantasies, and my delusions to review the reasons why I must endure.

When I’m happy, I write

Gladness would probably boost one’s desire to write. If there’s a simplest reason why a lot of writers exist, that would probably be because there are a lot happy people as much as the number of happy thoughts present in this world.

Personally, I write when I’m happy to share my happiness to others, to remind those who are in despair of life that day’s darkest moments end when you come to see the light. And that light becomes known to man only when he opens his eyes and see things beneath the surfaces.

When I’m sad, I write

When I feel like crying, I believe writing is a good shoulder to cry on. It is a good confidante, a good place to rest my grief. It may not provide you answers for your questions, but it provides ways to find relief.

When I’m in love I write

I believe love is mostly the reason why people become writers. Love is so powerful that it urges man to talk about cupid’s magnificent works most of the times.

I started writing love passages, which then became a poem, then became essays until it became love and tragedy, and of course, unconventional love in human race.

I write to tell the world that I am human, vulnerable to all love’s hurting and joy.

When I’m afraid, I write

I’m a coward. I fear a lot of things; frog, snakes, darkness, my girlfriend’s dad and brothers, and of course death. But my fears settle when I write it down. In my world, I create armors that are precisely able to protect me from all these fears.

When no one listens, I write

In this world where everyone keeps on telling a story, oftentimes I get ignored. So when I feel that no one listens, I write my stories and let the universe comprehend everything I want other people to know. I believe the air is never self-centered to not keep-tell every story I have shared. Thus, every wind breeze, if you just listen, brings about a story, a story of someone who never been heard.

***

There are a lot more reasons why I write. And those are just among the very obvious part of why I'm writing. I hope you too could find your own.

Just a simple note about my experience in finding these reasons, I have endured mockery, suppression as well as depression as I fulfill my role as a literary practitioner in the past. But I believe all those are just part of it. All you need to do is endure and be bolder each time you stand. Only then you can say, every letter you put to make a sentence is an important part of a story, and that story is something everyone will never shun to read.

(photo from google)

Ang mundo ni Magiting

image from google

Naroon siya’t nag-aabang,

Inaantay ang kredo ng ilang matatapang,

Adhika niya’y lumaban, sa sistema’y tumaliwas,

Gamit ang puso susupilin ang dahas.

Ngunit muli kanyang laba’y nabigo.

Sapagkat magigiting patuloy na nagtago.

Kanilang hinayaan ang bayang madusta,

Pamunuan ng taong yaman lamang ang nasa.

Umaasang may isang magiting na hahamon,

Upang ang bayan sa putik maiahon.

Ngunit ang paghihintay tila dina matatapos,

Lalo’t mga puso’y nababalot na ng takot.

Sa mga paslit ang bukas ay isang bangungot,

Gayung ang kasalukuya’y muog ng pagbabago.

Ang kahapo’y nanatiling mali na itatama,

Gamit ang aral sa kamalia’y makukuha.

Patuloy na aasa itong buong bayan,

Na may isang Magiting na muling lalaban.

Ang tauhan ng bulok at mapanglinlang na sistema,

Hahatulan ng bayan at ikakadena.

Ang mundo ni Magiting ay sadyang kay gulo.

Dahil mga dakila’y mangingibig ng trono.

Sila’y matatalino kung kaya’t nanloloko,

Ang baya’y bibubulag ng nasang di raw biro.

Sila-silang mababangis ay nagkakagatan,

Silang mga hayok sa lakas at kapangyarihan.

Ngunit sa huli kanilang kulay lilitaw,

Dakila sa umaga, sa gabi’y magnanakaw.

Ang laban ni Magiting

Image from google

Pinilay ng nagdaang kasaysayan,

Binubulag ngayon sa kasalukuyan.

Kanino na lalapit itong si Juan?

Ngayong nabawasan bayani n’yaong bayan?

Tinitikis ng kahirapan.

Dinaraya ng nanunungkulan.

Lugmok na sa dusa,

Tuloy pa ring inaalipusta.

Ika’y magmasid. At iyong mamamalas.

Yaong bayang dati’y binawian ng laya,

ngayo’y binibihag,

muling isinisilid sa bakal na hawla.

Maraming sumubok at nabigo.

Ngunit mas maraming naduwag at nagtago.

Nasaan na ang mga magigiting?

Hayu’t lapida kanila ng kapiling.

Sumunod sa agos niyaong kasaysayan.

Itong bansang alipin ng makapangyarihan.

Wala na nga bang disposisyon si Juan?

At naging sunud-sunuran na lamang ni John?

Kagitingan ng kahapo’y atin ng kailangan.

Pag-alaala sa paninindigan niyaong mga nangakipaglaban.

Kanino? Iilan? Hanggang saan?

Sino ang magsisimula ng panibagong laban?

(Ang tulang ito ay unang inilathala sa blog na somnolentdyarista.blogspot.com. Ito rin ay pagmamay-ari ng may-akda)